


Cherished Memories

by OrangeBlossoms



Series: FEmslash February 2018 [6]
Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Post-Canon, Set in Magvel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 13:34:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13788807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeBlossoms/pseuds/OrangeBlossoms
Summary: Eirika and L'Arachel have a disagreement.





	Cherished Memories

**Author's Note:**

  * For [engineDriver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/engineDriver/gifts).



> Eirika getting Gleipnir in FEH…: < There is more that could be done with some of these concepts… I don’t think I really did them justice. Smitty requested Eirika/L’Arachel and I had other plans for stories, but this is the one that I finished (I’ll do something nicer another time?). It’s been kicking around in my drafts ever since the FEH Sacred Memories banner announcement.

The palace library in Rausten has a reading room with high ceilings and sturdy wooden tables where scholars and clerics conduct research. Despite the relative silence, the space is alive with a focused energy and the movement of the day-to-day maintenance of the collections. It’s not a place she frequents on her own with any regularity. Even her whispered words carry a distracting level of ill-contained enthusiasm not appreciated by those in pursuit of knowledge. When she closes her eyes a brief moment, she can picture the light as it warms the scene; the sun is golden in her memories. 

Heavy gray clouds welcomed them to Grado when they crossed the border into Serafew, rays of light only shining through narrow gaps onto the town below. People have returned to work the land despite an uncertain future and the rains are a blessing in disguise. Eirika has determined it vital that she learn magic. L’Arachel hadn’t hesitated to offer her support when she made the initial proposal. They could return to Rausten and L’Arachel would guide her in glimpsing the divine wisdom and grace of the saints. 

Or perhaps they would stay in Renais, she had thought, when Eirika disabused her of the notion that she sought understanding of light magic. 

Anima then. 

L’Arachel herself had marveled at the elements called forth by their mage companions. How far could the gifts of nature be from the blessings of the divine? No sooner had she grown accustomed to the thought than she was once again proven hasty in her assumptions. Everything had gone cold at the revelation, a sudden chill like clouds crossing in front of the sun, before she composed herself. 

Weeks later and they have yet to reach an understanding. All L’Arachel can think to do is accompany her and advise against the actions that could arrive at a precipice and a fall from which there is no return.

_“Dark magic is not well-regarded. This I know, but at a basic level, it is not innately evil, L’Arachel.”_

The words echo in her mind and while the speaker is precious, the staid tone is a painful contrast to her emotional plea to the contrary. Her natural inclination is to support her in everything and her reluctance in this instance sends her thoughts on a circular path, each lap failing to deliver any further illumination. 

Eirika at times talks of Lyon as he once was rather than what he became. L’Arachel’s memories are of the forests and the depths of the earth where the shadows close in and choke out a person’s will to continue. They survived that then, but it was a necessary trial. This is something new and they have grown delicate over the course of evening conversations at the ends of long days.

She paints an image of a reserved young man, studious and kind. There is a fondness there that dips into wistfulness, sending ripples out that alter the flow of other aspects of their shared lives. L’Arachel listens and consoles as best she can, but the visions of another prince have a disquieting hold on her recollections. The two are difficult to reconcile and she suspects this pursuit is an attempt to do just that. 

Wringing gloved hands is ineffectual, so she does what she must and is at her side as they walk through the darkened stacks of a ransacked archive. Grado itself is still deep in the throes of recovery despite assistance from neighboring territories. Eirika had hoped to speak with Knoll for direction, but he is out on an assignment and won’t return for several days yet. 

A deep breath results in a coughing fit and stinging eyes that prick with tears; the shelves are poorly maintained and lined with dust. Eirika touches a hand to her arm and runs it down exposed skin in a comforting gesture. It’s enough to draw her out of her own worries and cues her to reach out in return.

“Eirika,” she says, but there is something about dimness that steals away her voice. 

“Yes, L’Arachel?”

“Perhaps I have misread. Pray stop me if I am wrong, but I felt— _feel_ —it important that I express this to you. I believe I understand at least in small part what you are attempting to do.”

The regret is automatic as she can sense Eirika withdrawing at the impending discussion. The tension causes her to flounder in her proclamation, but a prompt interrupts the pause. 

“What would that be?” she says in a clipped tone. L’Arachel cannot see her face.

“I am aware that our circumstances differ, but I have some experience with what it means to take up a skill in honor of those no longer with us.”

It is not an admission she makes lightly, at least not with that level of solemnity when she would rather be announcing her dedication to upholding the memory of her parents with a sense of elation. She’s tied the threads together and there is no avoiding the intersections of guilt and Lyon and magic. 

Part of her internally laments over the futility of discussing them each separately, neatly compartmentalized so as not to further wound. The areas in which they overlap are tender. They have learned to tread lightly. She confided in Dozla before they left Renais and he had reassured her, saying they would work through this as they had many other challenges. As they pause a moment in their walk, her smile falters.

“I simply worry... but I won’t try to stop you,” she says, watching for a response as she clears her throat. 

_Not yet, at least._

Eirika’s stance is rigid and details are muddled in the gloom.

“I’m here, after all,” she continues, her voice light, but not as bold as she would like. 

In the time it takes her to release a shaky breath, she doubts and then wishes she could rescind the last words. Stating the obvious… She shakes her head. Eirika doesn’t need the reminder and she’s not seeking praise. Not consciously.

Eirika sighs in the same moment L’Arachel offers up a silent prayer for guidance. Her shoulders stiffen as Eirika turns to her and pulls her close. 

“I’m sorry, L’Arachel,” she says, a hair above a whisper, “You are only trying to help.”

The thin line of her lips wavers at the apology. Pride is in the way of any further revelations until a gentle touch brushes back curls that have grown unruly in the stuffy closeness and drifts down to caress her cheek. Eirika flinches and pulls back from the embrace. 

L’Arachel brings a hand up to hastily wipe at the corner of her eyes and decides it’s not worth the pretense to blame it on the dust. They’ve both stumbled in the dark without meaning to, but there is a gravity to this juncture that cautions against mistakes. 

“I’m sorry,” Eirika repeats with greater intensity. She moves to hold her hands and kiss a cheek. “I value your counsel and should know you believe in my own abilities. I have grown accustomed to being told I shouldn’t—or couldn’t—even attempt any number of tasks by nearly everyone who I have ever held in high regard. I fear it has built up a stubbornness in me that wasn’t always there.” 

It’s something that has been alluded to before in their talks. L’Arachel has been fortunate to receive encouragement for as long as she can remember. Her loved ones might fret, but they allow her the freedom to make her mistakes and are there to raise her spirits when she loses her footing. This might be a moment for her to do the same for Eirika. 

“That simply means you are determined,” she says with a laugh that sounds more like herself despite the wetness that chokes her up at the end. She smooths over Eirika’s lapels as if they are preparing for a social gathering instead of alone in a neglected, water-damaged stacks. “There is nothing to be forgiven, but do be careful. I cannot abide you surviving a war only for other troubles to claim you.”

Eirika shakes her head.

“No, it’s more than that. I trust in you to have my best interests at heart and I have been more than stubborn as of late,” she murmurs, brushing a thumb across her cheek and L’Arachel’s vision grows fuzzy again. “I grieve so bitterly some days and wonder if I only understood…”

As she trails off, her gaze falls. L’Arachel is the one to pull Eirika close this time, her chin angling up to rest on her shoulder and Eirika's arms closing around her. 

“You needn’t do it alone. Any of it! That brother of yours wouldn’t wish for that either even if he lacks the proper words for comfort.”

She leans back just enough to see the corner of Eirika’s mouth tug upward. 

“As always, you are right, L’Arachel.”

It is shared banter that is as comfortable and warm as the arms around her waist. L’Arachel is unerring. Eirika is unparalleled. The familiarity is enough to settle her worries for the time being. 

“Of course!” she says as she removes herself a pace and is about to strike a pose when a sudden itch becomes a sneeze, her hands drawing up on reflex. 

“Perhaps we can return when Knoll arrives,” Eirika says, reaching for a hand and intertwining their fingers. 

L’Arachel hides her face behind her other hand a moment as sniffling is terribly undignified. She nods at Eirika’s suggestion as a new possibility comes to mind.

“You said you used to visit when you were younger. Perhaps you could give me a tour while we wait. I’ve always wanted to visit all the wonders of Magvel, you know. See how they compare to my Rausten.”

As they walk arm-in-arm discussing potential plans, she trusts Eirika will find the answers she seeks. In the meantime, there are many ways to cherish memories.

**Author's Note:**

> In a Very Serious Twitter poll with less than 60 respondents, people voted that they thought L’Arachel was shorter than Eirika.


End file.
